


Town With No Name

by EMMMMMMMS747



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-28 10:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20424440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EMMMMMMMS747/pseuds/EMMMMMMMS747
Summary: Michael Jones discovers a very unusual town tucked away in the boondocks in the Deep South.  As things start to unfold it becomes up to him to fix the broken citizens of the Town With No Name.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction based on real people. Any events and backstories the characters have are used for dramatic purposes only.

Michael felt a strong gust of wind against his back. It wasn’t unusual in late March to have such strong winds, but something in Michael’s gut told him otherwise. His first instinct was to flee, but he wanted to stick around. 

He had been hitchhiking across the open plains, and wanted to see some action. Weeks had gone by without much interaction with anything, human or otherwise. His thirst for drama was killing him inside. 

At first he suspected some sort of tornado. Around those parts they were pretty common in the spring. However, one look at the sky disproved his theory. It was one of the brightest days in recent history. Then, if Mother Nature would not provide him his entertainment, then what was the source of the wind? He looked around as if he were trying to spot a friend in a large crowd. After ten minutes of frivolous searching, he shrugged his shoulders and moved on. He was wasting precious time. 

There was a town twenty minutes north of where he was heading. At least it’s what his map said anyway. The map was so old and rugged he was shocked it didn’t rip. There were endless stains on it, each one unique like they were snowflakes. Michael swore he saw a new one each time he opened it. He wished the map was in better condition, but didn’t worry about it too much. It was his lifeline to civilization.

The road he was on was a very quiet one. The only traffic was the occasional tractor or combine, their drivers not even giving him so much as a passing glance. Mother Nature kindly reminded him of his situation by blasting another cold burst of wind in his face. He had no winter jacket to speak of. It had been stolen in the last city he stayed in. All he had were the clothes on his back: a plain white tee, and jeanes that were getting a bit too loose for his liking. 

Countless steps later, Michael finally arrived at the base of a hill. The map said the road lead into town. Michael did a double take, skeptically perusing the map. It didn’t look like it lead anywhere. He shuddered at the thought of someone being proud of the work they had done. 

Vines were breaking up the once smooth pavement. The color of the clay had even faded to the point where Michael couldn’t even tell what color it was. His first steps caused his feat to cry out in pain. This was not a road that led to any respectable town.

“Mornin feller,” Michael heard a faint southern accent in the distance. 

“Uh, hi?” He said dismissively

Michael tried his hardest to show no disdain towards the stranger, even if his breath reeked of whisky. He eyed the stranger cautiously, making sure he didn’t get too close. 

“Where you from partner?” His voice was unusually high for having just met someone. 

“Clearly not from around here,” Michael said sarcastically, his tone still guarded. 

“Well ain’t you a funny one!” The stranger smiled as if he hadn’t heard the previous statement. “No really, where you from man?” His tone was much more serious. 

“I’m from the north. I am what some of you might call a damn Yankee,” Michael said. 

“Very funny,” the man said still not very amused. “I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Arin.” 

Michael smiled, with a name he could get somewhere. “And mine is Michael,” he said returning the favor. “Where can I find a hotel around here?” He asked. 

“There’s one just a couple of blocks away from here. Though be careful, curfew starts at eight,” he warned. 

Michael nodded, and went to the hotel. He started looking around at the other citizens. Most of them appeared to be in some sort of drunken stupor. A couple of fights broke out around Michael, and he tried to squeeze past. One punch to the face stopped his plans . 

Michael retaliated by smashing his head into the side of a brick building. He screamed as he went down, and Michael tried again to flee the scene, but failed again. He got tripped up by another combatant. He tried hard to contain himself, but his hand naturally found its way to his opponents head. 

This one didn’t go down as quickly. He got back up and socked Michael with equal force upside the head. Michael yelled, but stood firm. He wasn’t about to go down like that. The pair traded blows as a crowd formed a ring around them. He took this time to study the man’s movements. 

The man stumbled around like a baby first learning how to walk. He seemed drunker than most of the crowd, and a few missing teeth screamed his experience in a fight. Drunk or not this man was to be respected, and so Michael backed off a little. He decided to go with plan b.

Once the man charged first, Michael attempted to spit in his face. His mouth moved like a gun, and after a while he connected. The man ran with a blind fury towards Michael, and Michael tripped him at the last possible second. He stood triumphantly over the fallen foe, and mocked him. 

Then the crowd suddenly dispersed as two cops came charging in and grabbed each of Michael’s arms. 

“We are officers of the law!” One of them shouted, his words so slurred, Michael couldn’t understand what he just said. “Everyone please go back to whatever it was that you were doing, we’ll handle this.” 

“What the hell?” Michael yelled. “Get your filthy hands off of me!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that sir.”

“Ian, I think he meant that as one of them rhetorical questions,” the other man quickly cut his partner off. “Excuse my brother here, he’s not the brightest bulb.” Both spoke in the same accent, which sent Michael’s senses off the rails. 

“What am I being arrested for exactly? This town doesn’t look like it has any rules,” Michael said dryly. 

“Ian, please present the foreigner The Book,” the other man said. 

The man Michael had just fought looked mortified as Ian pulled out a tiny pamphlet from his back pocket. 

“Here is the book!” Ian screamed over dramatically. His brother scanned its pages until he found the correct law. 

“Eureka,” he shouted confidently. “In nineteen-twelve, a huge bar fight broke out in town square during Winter Fest. Twenty people were killed, and in the aftermath, Lord Pie declared there to be no more fights within town limits!” 

“Wait so one of your mayors was named Lord Pie?” Michael asked sarcastically. 

“Yeah, our mayor’s are named Lord Pie like you northerners like your slaves!” The older gentleman said just as dryly. Ian and his brother nodded along enthusiastically.  
“The fuck that doesn’t even make any sense,” Michael protested. But his concern fell on deaf ears. 

“You know young man you really ought to know your own country's history,” the old man explained. 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me like I’m disabled. I’m perfectly capable of thinking for myself,” Michael said. 

“Sounds to me like you got one of them northern educations,” he fired back. Michael wasn’t sure if the man’s raging alcoholism or accent was to blame for his speech. He decided to go with the beer. 

“Oh you sure got me,” Michael said unamused, putting up his hands mockingly. “But my northern education set me up to succeed a lot better than yours.”

“Eh, I don’t think it did,” Ian chimed in. “Anthony, why don’t you pull out that picture of your degree on your fancy ass phone you got there.” 

Anthony obayed, and handed his phone over to Michael. “So you got yourself a degree from Liberty University?” He said surprised. “I’m not so sure that counts in the real world my friend,” he said dryly. 

“Of course it does!” Anthony stopped his feet, catching one of Michael’s toes in the process. “I spent four fudging years working my butt off to achieve my dreams! 

“Anthony, watch your language young man,” the older man interjected. 

“Sorry elder,” Anthony respectfully bowed. “But you must understand my frustration towards this godless heathen discounting my hard work!” He yelled. 

Michael couldn’t help but laugh. “I never said I shitted on your hard work pal. All I said was getting a degree from an extremely biased university is setting yourself up for failure,” he said soothing Anthony. “Also weren’t you two in the process of arresting me,” he quipped. 

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Ian slapped his forehead. “Anthony, let’s arrest this son of a bitch.”

\------------  
The jailhouse was one of the most crowded Michael had ever seen, and it was loud. So loud he had an immense urge to cover his ears. However, dumb and dumber continued to escort him towards his cell. 

“Am I going to be processed?” Michael asked, but his concern fell on deaf ears. Purposely deaf ears. He spotted tiny green ear plugs. 

“Here’s your cell, godless heathen,” Anthony yelled. 

“What?” Ian asked even louder. 

“I wasn’t asking you moron!” Anthony replied just as loud. “The man’s gotta be in his cell!”

“Oh,” Ian said considerably softer. “In you go,” the pair carelessly tossed Michael in his cell like he was less than human. 

His cell looked like it belonged in a third world country, not in the United States. In the minute he lived there he already counted several roaches. There was barely any light aside from what the sun provided. It was almost like trying to wade through a minefield. 

It took a while to adjust to the darkness, but when he did Michael realised he wasn’t alone. There was a taller, younger looking man creepy sitting in the corner. 

“Hello?” Michael asked with a friendly tone. 

No response. 

After debating with himself, Michael decided to sit down next to him. 

“I don’t know if you heard, but hello I’m Michael,” he sported his best friendly smile. It wasn’t much, but he hoped it would at least lighten the mood. 

“My name’s Logan,” the teen said quietly. For a man of his looks he was uncharacteristically reserved in his body language. Michael still couldn’t see much, but Logan looked like a supermodel. Michael chalked it up to inexperience. 

“Is this your first time through the prison system?” Michael asked. 

Logan nodded his head. “How the fuck did you know?” He asked. 

“This ain’t my first time being in prison,” Michael explained while Logan nodded along. “When I was seventeen, I was sentenced to a minimum security prison in upstate New York for a few years. Though that prison was a lot more user friendly than this one.”

“Yeah this prison is known throughout town as being extremely hard to navigate,” Logan said. “We’ve had three deaths in the past two weeks alone.” 

Three deaths in the past two weeks? Michael searched his memory banks to see if he could recall anything in the news about it. Sensing nothing, he asked Logan about it. “So how come none of this has been on the news?”

“It’s because we’re our own separate country,” Logan said with the confidence of an expert. “News isn’t allowed to go through without Lord Pie’s approval.” 

“Your own separate country?” Michael gave Logan a confused look. “You’re in the fuckin United States. This might feel like a separate country, but you guys are bound by federal laws. Aren’t you?” 

“I don’t have it hear, but each citizen is given a separate passport at birth. We don’t receive anything from the feds,” Logan said. 

“How was the city allowed to get that to go through?” Michael asked. 

“You may have misheard me. Lord Pie, peace be upon him,” Logan said with the practice of a zealot. “He is the one who controls all laws and information throughout the town,” he said. 

“Peace be upon him? Are you guys a new Muslim sect?” Michael asked. 

Logan shook his head profusely. “We follow Pieism,” he explained with reverence. “It combines practices and beliefs from the Abrahamic faiths.” 

“I see, so this Lord Pie created the religion then?” 

“Not exactly,” Logan said. “And I know it looks crazy from the outside, but I suggest you say Lord Pie, peace be upon him from now on. Guards beat prisoners if they don’t say it,” Logan warned. 

“Right,” Michael nodded skeptically. “So Lord Pie, peace be upon him, is basically god in this town?” 

“I’m not comfortable asking that question,” Logan said.

“That’s fine by me,” Michael replied. “We can talk more about this once we get to know each other if that would be better.”

Logan nodded. “I would like that better Michael,” he said. “I can show you around during lunch, which is in thirty minutes. Should be a fair trade off for taking me under your wing, no?” 

“I didn’t exactly say I’d take you under my wing,” Michael explained. “I simply explained I’d teach you a few of my tricks. If I implied mentorship, then I apologize.” 

“But didn’t you,” Michael cut Logan off. 

“Save it for lunch, Logan,” Michael demanded. “I don’t want you to lose any energy now.” 

\----------

The lunch room was packed. Michael did a quick headcount, and estimated at least two-hundred prisoners with more in line. He was lucky in that he and Logan were some of the first ones in line. They sat down at the far end of the cafeteria with the other fresh meat. 

Michael disapprovingly looked down at his lunch. It contained some unidentifiable slop he was never going to touch, along with some cold sloppy joe, and some milk. Even his upstate prison had better food. 

“God this food sucks,” Michael said. 

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Logan chuckled. “You said your last prison was in upstate New York, right?” Michael nodded. “We ain’t got that uppity atmosphere down here boy. This is the best food we’ve had all week,” Logan explained. 

“Jesus, best food you’ve had all week?” Michael repeated. “What’s stopping this place from rioting? Back in New York, we may have been uppity, but we knew how to throw a damn good riot.” 

“This prison is run by Lord Pie, peace be upon him, himself,” Logan replied extra loudly. “I doubt many people here would want to disrespect Lord Pie, peace be upon him, like that.” 

“How much does Lord Pie, peace be upon him, control in this damn town?” Michael asked. 

“Quite a lot,” Logan said. 

Michael ate his meal in record time. He wanted to get a good look at all of his fellow inmates. He could already tell where some of the gangs were. They had lackies guarding their tables. He paid extra attention to where all of the gangs were located. After committing their locations to memory, he decided to spot the weakest link. Before he did anything however, he asked Logan, one more question. 

“So Logan, how long have you been locked up?” 

“For about two weeks now,” Logan replied. “Yeah, they take a while to process you in,” he said before Michael asked his next question. 

“Has anyone been forgotten by the system?” Michael asked worried. 

“Oh, plenty of times. I’ve had friends who’ve gotten locked up for minor offenses whom I haven’t seen in years until I got locked up,” Logan explained. 

“Does being on your best behavior not matter too much then?” Michael asked. “Because I’m planning on fucking some people up.”

Logan soberly shook his head. “From what I’ve seen it doesn’t really amount to much. Go right ahead and do whatever you want to them.” 

Figuring he had nothing else to lose, Michael walked up to the nearest lone wolf, and socked him right in the mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

“You a real bitch ass punk!” The other inmate yelled at Michael, which drew unwanted attention his way. 

Michael dodged his opponent's response, and landed another haymaker, this one connecting with his head. As the inmate fell to the ground, Michael made a leap towards the door. Before he could gain much ground, a lunch tray hit him in the back. 

Stumbling for a moment, Michael’s feet finally gave out, and he landed face first. His collapse was met by mild chuckling from the other prisoners. Dusting himself off, Michael took a defensive stance. Just as he predicted, his opponent charged head on. Michael took his challenger head on, and the two began to grapple. 

The other inmate while taller, was much lanker than Michael. He was also much slower, and as a result rarely landed a punch. A welcome surprise to Michael, who expected a much harder fight. Instead he was having his way with the poor kid. He was able to land blow after blow, and he could not retaliate. 

It was only after the kid’s face had been severely bloodied that the guards were called. They violently separated the two, Michael beating his chest in celebration. The walk to the warden’s office felt like a long one. Michael wasn’t quite sure, as he was blindfolded. Eventually they got to his office, and Michael’s jaw nearly dropped when he saw it. 

It was much bigger than even his holding cell. In it were four secretaries tending to menial tasks. In a smaller room connected to the lobby sat the man himself. Lord Pie was seated at his desk looking at his computer. Hands folded, he looked like a Bond villain. All he needed was a cat. 

“Lord Pie, peace be upon you, we have a trouble maker,” one of the guards said. Even blindfolded, Michael could tell it was a different voice. 

“Come, sit him down,” Lord Pie said. Michael noted Lord Pie’s accent was much different. His tone as well seemed more confident than anyone else he had met. “And take the blindfold off too on your way out please.” 

The guard did as was told, and bowed as he left. 

“Now young man, I am reading a report on what happened. Care to tell your side of the story first?” Lord Pie said. 

Michael was taken aback. “Uh, yeah sure. So I was sitting there chatting with my new pal Logan, when I swore I heard the offender say something about my heritage,” Michael explained. “As you can clearly tell Lord Pie, peace be upon you, I’m not from here.” 

“I see,” Lord Pie scratched his beard. “Also young man, I’d prefer you to call me Felix from now on. You sound really uncomfortable saying my title. Would that be an issue for you?”

“No Felix, not at all,” Michael responded. “I’m curious where are you from, if you don’t mind answering? I don’t mean to offend, but your accent is quite different than everyone else’s.” Michael asked. 

“No I don’t mind at all,” Felix answered. “I was born in Sweden. While I haven’t lived there in ages, I’ve made it a point to keep my accent, kind of like Schwarzenegger. Trying to keep my heritage alive if you know what I mean.” 

“I understand,” Michael said. “So how much trouble am I in?” He asked with a smirk. 

Felix waved him off. “None at all young man. I don’t really dish out punishments to foreigners.”

“Am I released from jail then?” Michael asked. “Because if I’m not in any trouble here and am a foreigner then why keep me locked up?” 

“That wasn’t my call, Mr. Jones.” Felix said seriously. “Ian and Anthony aren’t the brightest, as I’m sure you’re well aware by now.” 

Michael nodded. 

“While it’s true you were arrested for violating one of our laws, they also failed to mention only citizens can be arrested,” Felix explained. 

“Wait, so Logan wasn’t bullshiting with the seperate country thing?” Michael asked. “I thought he was just fucking with me.”

“No he was telling the truth,” Felix shook his head. “I can pull out my passport to prove it to you if you still don’t trust me.” 

He handed Michael the document. It wasn’t anything like a United States passport. It was just a small slip of paper with Felix’s face, name, date of birth, and when he became a citizen. The lack of substance peaked his interest. 

“This is it?” Michael asked. “There’s not a lot to it.”

“That’s the whole point. If I didn’t keep it as simple as possible, then the towns folk might not be able to understand it,” Felix said dryly. “We don’t exactly have the best education system around here.” 

“I can see that,” Michael responded just as dryly. “So am I free to go?”

“Not exactly, I want to get to know you a little more,” Felix said. “I like to get to know tourists better.” 

“Well, I don’t know how much of a tourist I really am when I being held against my will,” Michael quipped. 

“Fair enough, I just want to see how you tick,” Felix said. 

“And why should I tell you about myself?” Michael asked angrily. “I don’t exactly trust you.”

Felix nodded in a way that telegraphed to Michael that he understood. “It’s very tough being in a foregin world. I felt you’d want someone to help you through. Just like how you wanted to help Logan out.” 

“So you’ve been spying on me,” Michael stated.

“Yes,” Felix agreed. “I have to make sure my town folk don’t run off and do something stupid.” He explained. 

It was a reasonable enough excuse, but Michael still felt troubled by it. “Are there cameras scattered around town too?” 

“You catch on pretty quickly,” Felix said impressed. “There’s cameras in every conceivable spot you can think of.” 

“I can also safely guess you’ve got bugs along with said cameras?” Michael guessed. 

“Exactly,” Felix confirmed. “Though don’t worry, I won’t send anyone after you if you fail to say ‘peace be upon you.”

Michael could feel chills running down his spine. He went after people who didn’t say the stupid phrase? He tried not to show any discomfort, and if Felix could tell it, Michael couldn’t know for sure. Still it begged the question, how much of a raging narcissist was this guy? Michael decided not to pursue it. He knew that if Felix really was a narcissist, he’d blow up the moment Michael made a mistake. 

“Well that’s good to know,” Michael said with fake enthusiasm. “I just don’t have to do anymore bad things and I’m good right?”

“For the most part, yeah,” Felix said. “While I’m extremely lax with foreigners, if you break any major laws I do strike hard with the jail hammer,” he warned. There was a brief silence before Felix spoke up again. “Now that we got that out of the way, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself, Michael?” 

“Well, I’m from New Jersey, but moved down south to escape my past,” Michael said reluctantly, rubbing his neck. He hoped that would be enough to curb Felix’s curiosity. “I’m not comfortable talking about it further,” he said. He hoped Felex’s kindness would be at the forefront of his mind. While it was true, Michael didn’t like talking about his past, he wanted to test Felix’s stance on boundaries. 

“That’s fine by me, Michael,” Felix responded. “I’m sure I’ll gather enough information on you sooner or later.” 

“I figured as much,” Michael said dryly. “Am I free to go now?” 

Felix nodded, and Michael was escorted out by a pair of completely different guards.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael’s hotel room was not what he had expected. The room itself was made more for a king than just a simple comoner. The bed was a king size, and looked like it could swallow him whole. There was a walk in closet, and master bedroom. If this was what being on house arrest was like, Michael had no issues with his accommodations. The only problem he had was the view. 

His hotel was in the middle of a very run down apartment complex. The rusty old buildings were a stark contrast to his current state. The color of the buildings reminded him of the road that first welcomed him into town. Though this time around he could see they were once a proud red. The color has since blended in with the rust. It was like they hadn’t been looked after since they were first built. 

He wasn’t sure what to do with his free time. If the locals he had already encountered were any indication, then Michael was going to have a rough time making friends. He never exactly liked Southern culture. It clashed too much with his own values, but he figured he’d take a stab at it. Having a few friends was going to be better than none at all. It would drive him mad. 

When he was taken to his room, Michael took note of three guards that patrolled the area. All three were taller, and bigger than him, but he figured he could outrun them. He didn’t have much time to study their patterns, and thus had to think on the fly, something he was not yet adept at. 

An opportunity arose, and he struck first. Seeing a gap in their defense, he made a fast, yet quiet escape. He could have gone through the window, but felt it was too obvious of an escape. He’s fear was soon proven correct. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw a guard outside stationed just below his room. 

The hotel was large, but barron. It looked more like a tourist trap rather than a functioning hotel. Very few staff were present as Michael navigated the building, and he never saw another guest as he descended floor after floor. 

The blinding sun was the first thing that hit him when he went outside. It was even nicer out than when he first arrived. The second thing he noticed was how empty the town was. He counted ten people out, two of them being Ian and Anthony. 

Avoiding them was his top priority. They might be dumb, but they have a direct line to Felix. His freedom needed to last for a few weeks, and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. 

Michael decided to stroll on into town. He had some money saved up, and was looking to get some new clothes. His old tee shirt had been tearing for months, the fabric having been torn indiscriminately. His jeans were no better. His shoes were only hanging on by a thread. If this was an independent state cut off from the rest of the world, then surely there was a place to stock up on essentials. 

Scanning the market place, he finally found a place. It was a very simple stall, whos only distinguishing feature was the word clothes tacked on over it. The worlds were sloppily painted over in light blue paint. It reminded Michael of some of the more seeder shops from his childhood neighborhood. 

“Welcome partner,” the shopkeeper said. He had an extremely over the top country accent to complement his cowboy hat. 

“Hi, I’m looking for some new clothes,” Michael said. “What do you all have for me?”

“We have some new tee shirts!” The shopkeeper said. 

Michael took a look at what they had to offer. For shirts labeled new they had quite a lot of holes in them. To him, it wouldn’t appear he had new clothes at all, but two is better than one. “I’d like five shirts and a pair of jeans please,” Michael asked politely.

“Sure thing champ! That’s going to run ya ten dollars even!” 

Michael handed him the change. “Wow, you guys really are the cheapest place in town!” He said referring to a sign plastered in the back. 

“Yeah, just like one of my exes,” the shopkeeper quipped. 

Michael couldn’t help but laugh with him. “We’ve all been there bud.”

“My name’s Geoff by the way,” Geoff introduced himself. 

Michael responded in kind. “So where are you from Geoff?” 

“I’m originally from Alabama,” he responded. 

“No shit, I have some friends from an old job from there,” Michael said. “Said they wanted to leave the state ASAP.” 

Geoff laughed, “well I don’t blame them. That place is a shithole. Where you from Michael?” 

“I’m from New Jersey,” Michael answered. 

“Well what are you doing here in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere?” 

“I was really dumb as a kid, and figured I wouldn’t be able to move on without a change of scenery,” Michael explained. 

“Yeah, I’ve had my fair share of uh,” Geoff cleared his throat, “oh sorry must have been something I ate. Anyway, I was a mess myself during childhood. Didn’t help I lived in a pretty bad neighborhood.” 

“Mine wasn’t that great either,” Michael said. “When the biggest building is a double-wide trailer you know your parents fucked up.” 

“Right on man,” Geoff held an imaginary shot glass. “Hey, it’s getting pretty late out, do you mind coming over for dinner?” 

“Uh, sure I don’t have anything going on at the moment,” Michael said surprised. 

\-----  
Geoff’s house was a one story rickety old wooden pigsty. The white color had faded from constant battling with the elements. The front porch was one two-hundred pound beast away from total collapse. Michael counted ten nails that were out of place, and was struck by a few of them. The inside of the house wasn’t much better. 

The inside was a hoarder's wet dream. Piles of trinkets and other old crafts lined the walls. Old storage containers endlessly stacked up so high Michael was scared someone would die if it collapsed overhead. Michael almost wanted to throw up, but did not out of respect for the host. 

Michael could hear Geoff yelling from another room. “Millie, have you gotten ready yet? We have a guest!” He sounded quite angry compared to his demnior earlier. To not poke the bear, Michael snuck his way into the kitchen. 

In stark contrast to the rest of the house, the kitchen was immaculate. The smell of pork masked everything else in the room. Michael forgot he was walking through his personal hell for a brief moment. 

A few minutes later, Geoff came running into the kitchen to check on his pork. 

“Ah shit,” He slammed his tongs on the ground. Ruffling his hair, he ran to grab a plate. “I’m so sorry about that Michael,” he apologized. “I can invite you tomorrow when I remember to not burn the meat.”

Michael waved him off, “it’s fine Geoff. It’s the thought that counts,” Michael gave his best genuine smile. It seemed to work as Geoff’s face began to relax. They grabbed their food and waited for Millie.

“Man, I don’t know why you were upset, this stuff is amazing! What’s your secret?” Michael said in between chews. 

“It ain’t nothing much, just a couple of different seasonings I mix in,” Geoff explained. 

Michael reached for seconds under Millie’s watchful eye. “Ah come on there’s gotta be something else to it!” 

“Well in my younger years, I was a cook in the military,” Geoff said. 

“No shit, how long did you serve?” 

“I was in the army for five years. Oh, also could you please not cuss anymore?” Geoff asked. 

“Oh, sure that’s not a problem. What made you join the army?” Michael asked. 

“I wanted to see more of the world. I figured if I didn’t join the army, then I’d be stuck in my small town forever,” Geoff explained. “The military provided me with all of this.” 

“I’ve thought about the military myself a few times. Though I figured I wouldn’t have the mental to complete basic,” Michael said. 

“Mental?” Geoff asked confused. 

Michael nodded, “I’d probably get in trouble with my drill sergeants every couple of minutes,” he laughed. 

Geoff laughed with him, “the army definitely ain’t for everyone. I had a really tough time myself.”

“How’d you manage to make it through?” Michael asked, half amazed, half surprised. 

“I just kept pushing through. The thought of going back home was greater than quitting,” Geoff said. 

“That’s a pretty big accomplishment,” Michael said awkwardly as he looked around the room. Michael wondered if Geoff was really proud of his environment. Both him and his daughter reeked of poverty. Felix must have put something in the water for Geoff to believe this was better than a mobile home in the middle of bumbfuck nowhere. 

“Especially since not not that many people made it through when I went. It’s much different now, but I still wear it as a badge of honor,” Geoff puffed his chest out as if he were wearing the badge. “After all, I’m one of a kind.” 

Michael was about to open his mouth before he could feel his skin crawl. He now realized why Geoff was so proud of his conditions. Felix must have said something to him, and the other citizens to make them stay. How else would Geoff say that with a straight face. 

“Do you happen to have a guest room?” Michael asked. 

“Yeah! I’d have to rearrange some stuff, but it shouldn’t be a problem,” Geoff said.

“Would you mind hurrying it up?” Michael snapped his fingers. “I’d like to move out of the hotel I’m staying out sooner rather than later.” 

“I’ll do the best I can,” Geoff said.


End file.
